Writing
Nadirah Foxx  

Frisky Friday Flash Fiction

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Happy Friday! It really is a happy one. My husband came home on Wednesday. We hadn’t seen him since March. Having him back has been the perfect birthday present! Normally, I wouldn’t take so many days off in a row before the big day. It’s been delightful.

I carved out a little time to write the next installation of Deception

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Deception

Part Twelve

Calvin Reeves

Unfortunately, the results didn’t come back that day. After lunch, I called Connie about the report.

“I’m sorry, Detective. I put a rush on the test. As soon as the report comes in—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’ll call me.”

Needless to say, the situation was akin to somebody pissing in my coffee. I preferred shit on time. When something was expected from me, I made sure I was prompt with the delivery. Sadly, not everyone operated the same way. I had to remind myself that I couldn’t make people move the way I wanted. So, instead of pouring over DNA test results, I spent the rest of the day studying the email Connie sent earlier.

After an hour, I was certain we had a serial killer on our hands. I just didn’t agree with Connie’s assumption about the gender of the suspect. It didn’t matter to me that we had hair fibers suggesting a female. Wigs could be worn by men too. It was the reason I kept returning to the prospect that the perp could be a man masquerading as a woman. 

Staring at the board of victims, I scanned the information. So far, we had twelve men with similar causes of death. Each one had been small framed, which easily supported Connie’s theory. But I didn’t like things that were too obvious. Our suspect could have been a skinny male. Because of his size, he relied on the Rohypnol to subdue his marks. The drug allowed our perp to do whatever he wanted, including injecting the paralytic. I was two seconds away from formulating my profile when someone knocked and the door swung open. 

Marisa stuck her head around the corner. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“That’s why we have cell phones,” I stated.

She lifted a tall to-go cup. “I brought coffee.”

Grinning, I placed my notepad and pen on the desk. “What’s up, sis?”

“Just checking in with you.”

More like she was being nosy. “About?”

She closed the door and crossed the room. After setting the cup of coffee on my blotter, Marisa perched on the edge of the desk. “Did you call Mary?”

I scoffed. “Whatever for?”

Marisa frowned. “Seriously? She was so into you.”

Scratching my jaw, I stared at my sister. My sibling was notorious for trying to hook me up with her friends. Setting me up with a stranger went beyond her usual meddling. 

Without my asking, Marisa finally said, “I’m worried about you. Ever since the divorce, all you do is work.”

“That’s not true,” I mumbled.

She folded her arms. “How many dates have you been on in…uh…the last six months?”

That was generous. I figured she would have asked about the previous month. Before I married, I had a very active dating life. It wasn’t unusual for me to go out at least three nights a week, each time with a different woman.

My lips parted, ready to give a quick answer, and then I thought about it. Honestly, I hadn’t had time for relationships. My career mattered more. That’s why you’re divorced, dude! I blew air through my cheeks before saying, “Look, if I agree to find someone worthy—”

“What’s wrong with Mary?”

“I don’t know her,” I stated.

“That’s why you ask her out. Take her to dinner and get to know her. Is there any harm in that?”

There could be a lot of harm in that. Not the point, though.

“Listen, Cal, just ask her out for a cup of coffee. If she’s not your type, then don’t repeat the event. Let her down nicely, though.”

Deep down, I knew Mary wasn’t my type. There was something off about the woman. If I wanted to find out what it was, maybe Marisa had the right idea.

I grinned. “I’ll call her.”

“Thank you! I’m sure you won’t be sorry.”

Oh, don’t thank me yet, little sister. Asking Mary out wasn’t a mercy date, but hopefully, it would give me some much needed answers.

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